Once A Spy Always A Spy
by Goldenbrook15
Summary: Alex knew that, no matter how many times they said he was free, nothing could change what had happened to him. As the saying goes: Once a spy, always a spy. For Alex, there is no escaping his family's legacy. Written for "Spyfest 2015" prompt.


**Once A Spy Always A Spy**

 _Summary:_

 _Alex knew that, no matter how many times they said he was free, nothing could change what had happened to him. As the saying goes: Once a spy, always a spy. For Alex, there is no escaping his family's legacy. Written for "Spyfest 2015" prompt._

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider**

It had been a year, a whole year since MI6 had let him go.

A lot of things can happen in a year.

If someone had asked him six months ago how things were going he would have said that he was the happiest he had ever been. He had a family that cared for him and his grades were above average, no excessively long absences in sight. His life had been everything that he could have ever hoped for with the Pleasures.

A lot can change in six months.

Sabina, in abrupt twist of fate, died in a car accident when she was going to buy groceries.

The Pleasures, in their grief, ignored Alex and pushed him away, saying that he reminded them to much of their daughter. Hurt that they didn't realize that he was grieving too, he had found an old house abandoned house to live in for the time being. He had hoped that they would come to their senses and realize that he had nowhere else to go.

They never came for him.

School was a waste of time when one found themselves living on the streets and scrounging for food or desperately begging for work. However, unlike the other street dwellers he wasn't just another kid. The first man who had tried to take advantage of his age and newness to the street life didn't even have time to learn that lesson.

Alex wasn't afraid to kill. He had done it many times and he would do it many more if it meant that he stayed alive. What was the point of living through years of torture at the hands of some of the worlds most dangerous criminals only to die on the streets because he didn't want to kill someone?

Word traveled fast and soon the entire underground was talking about it.

"Did you hear what happened to Old Weasel?"

"No, what do you mean? Did he get someone else?"

"He's dead. Kid, fifteen or sixteen, blond hair, new. He was going to be Old Weasel's new victim, but the boy killed the man instead."

"How did that happen?"

"Don't know. They say he's dangerous though; say they can tell by the look in his eyes. He's not afraid to kill."

Criminal organizations are always happy to get their hands on born killers. Sadly for them, Alex was not a born killer, he was forced to be, and that make all the difference. The first people sent to bring him in were found dead in a gutter by the police who identified the men as hired criminal bodyguards. The following groups got the same treatment.

They soon realized that they were dealing with something much larger than a teen good at killing. This was a professional killer; someone who could kill you in your sleep and make it look like a heat attack.

That was when the panic started.

No one bothered to ask _why_ there was an assassin living among the lowlife, only that there was a potential cat pretending to be a mouse and succeeding. It made them scared.

Two months into his life in the streets Alex realized that no matter where he went his reputation always followed him. The police had caught wind of his description and labeled him a dangerous murderer, starting a manhunt for him. Knowing that if he stayed he would have to take innocent lives (the only lives he had ever intentionally taken were those who he knew would hurt others for personal gain) Alex packed up and vanished.

He began to travel, deciding that he was tired of sitting around. Life as a spy had been a never ending life or death situation but now that it was gone . . . he didn't know what to do. He was too damaged to be out among civilized people, too scarred to live a normal life, too old for his young body.

Even the animals could sense the watchful predator in him, just waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Four months into his self exile SCORPIA found him.

SCORPIA, broken and scattered as it was, were determined to get their revenge, and he was the perfect target. He was the one to nearly completely destroy them, he was the one to kill their leaders, and he was the one who MI6 had protected so that they could not touch him when their anger burned red hot for retribution.

He was the one who was now unprotected.

Even so, his years as a spy had not taught him nothing, and he had not lost any of the skills he had learned during that time. In fact, he had only gotten better.

They sent their best assassins chasing after him in the African jungles. They sent their best assassins to their deaths.

Their scientists tried to predict his movements, where he was going to end up next. Their scientists failed because he had no plan.

They tried their hardest to capture him, but in the end it only served to annoy him.

To get rid of the pesky little scorpions that wouldn't leave he hunted them down, one by one, until the were all gone and there was nothing left to rise from the ashes because there weren't even ashes left after he was fished with them.

It had given him a purpose, for the first time in almost a year. It had been . . . exhilarating, something he had not known he had missed.

Without anyone to take care of, and no one taking care of him, he no longer cared if he lived or died, just that he was doing the world a favor by getting rid of the criminals who would kill thousands if they had the chance.

Greed drove them, but it was revenge that brought their downfall.

Now, here he was, standing in front of the one place that he had once vowed he would never return to: Royal and General Bank, a.k.a. MI6 headquarters. It was strange, to be standing in the exact spot where he had once taken a bullet to the chest.

He had realized, a month back, that his life of travel wasn't enough. He craved the life or death situations, the fights with people so much more powerful than himself. He craved _winning_ , even when the odds were stacked against him. MI6 had made him into what he was. Nothing could fix the past, and there was no escaping the future, so here he was.

"Can I help you?" there was a man standing near Alex, watching him with a wary stance. From the slight bulge in the man's pocket Alex knew he was armed, but he was not worried. He had no doubt that the man was an Agent, and a fairly new one too.

Alex hummed softly, probably looking a little insane to the Agent in his ragged clothing and distant, unfocused eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know if a Mrs. Jones working here, would you?"

Immediately the agent stiffened and his eyes narrowed, "No, I don't believe I do."

Pathetic. The man wore his emotions on his sleeve, that was going to get him killed someday.

"Tell her an old friend is coming to visit, won't you?" Alex asked, ignoring what the man had said but turning to look him directly in the eyes.

The man shifted uncomfortably under his thoughtless stare but Alex knew the instant that the man decided to report to Jones about him. Smiling brightly at the man he gave a nod and turned, blending almost instantly with the crowd and drifting away unseen.

The next day the same agent was waiting for him outside of the bank. The man looked extremely confused as he led Alex inside and to the elevator without question. Though Alex could have found the way on his own he knew it was best to have an escort so that he wasn't shot at.

They entered Mrs. Jones office, ironically Alan Blunt's old grey office, and waited for the woman too look up from her paperwork. As soon as she did her eyes locked with Alex's and understanding as well as sadness flashed through them.

"You're dismissed, Agent Knight," Jones said firmly.

The agents eyes widened slightly and he began to protest, "Mrs. Jones I must protest–"

"I'm perfectly safe, agent. In fact, I'm probably safer now then I was before," amusement flashed through her voice as she saw the confusion on his face, "You're _dismissed,_ Agent."

Swallowing unsurely the agent nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.

When they were alone Mrs. Jones gave him a small, sad smile, "I would say that it's good to see you again, Alex, but my heart wouldn't be in it."

Alex nodded. Mrs. Jones had been one of the few who disliked what Blunt had done with him, turning him into a traumatized teen spy. He could understand her sadness in the fact that he could never escape. Once the life of a spy had you, there was no escape.

Once a spy, always a spy. There was no retirement until after dead.

"You know why I am here," It was a statement, not a question, but Alex didn't need to elaborate.

Mrs. Jones nodded and pulled a folder from her desk, "Ironically, I just received this. It seems to be up to your level, take a look," she handed the folder over, completely ignoring the large red _Top Secret_ stamped across the top.

Alex read though it, a grin slipping onto his face as he memorized the information instantly.

"Do you accept?" Mrs. Jones asked.

Alex smiled brightly, a light making its way back into his eyes at the promise of danger.

"I'd be delighted to."

0~o~0

"Did you hear?!" Nancy Lark whispered to her partner, Drew, excitedly.

"What's got you so excited?" Drew asked in a drawling voice.

Samuel Knight, a newer recruit, leaned toward them slightly wondering what they two were talking about. His entire week had gone from strange to even stranger since yesterday.

" _The_ Alex Rider accepted a mission. He's back!" Nancy squealed excitedly.

" _Rider?!_ No way! Didn't he, like, disappear almost a year ago?" Drew asked, bored tone vanishing.

"Yah, that's the thing, see, he supposedly was a teenager when he was recruited and he has had nothing but perfect missions. He was the one that took down SCORPIA . . . twice! Apparently though, it wasn't a voluntary recruitment, they practically forced him to work for them and when the higher ups lost their leverage over him they lost him too," Nancy was practically glowing.

Samuel, on the other hand, had frozen as something occurred to him.

The strange kid that he had found staring at the bank had been a teenager too, and Mrs. Jones seemed to know him personally. The way that he had acted suggested previous knowledge of both the secrets of the bank and his employers. There was also the fact that every time he was in the kid's presence he felt like a cornered animal facing off against a dragon.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Alex Rider had been a teenager when he was recruited.

The young man that he had lead to Mrs. Jones office was overly familiar with the layout, as if he had been there many times before.

Samuel felt his heart near stop.

He had met Alex Rider.

He had met _Alex Rider._

He had _talked_ to _Alex Rider_ and he _hadn't known._

Alex Rider was a legend by many in MI6, a myth of the perfect spy. Young, smart, and unstoppable he was the best of the best, the one that everyone aspired to be like.

And he, Samuel Knight, had stood _right next to_ the living legend.

He doubted that anyone would ever believe him. He didn't even believe himself.

Wow.

0~o~0

Alex smiled as he popped two green contacts into his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror. Black hair hung down around his face, making him nearly impossible to recognize himself. The green eyes were just the finishing touch.

For the next three months he wasn't Alex Rider.

He was Benjamin Joseph Lake, son of the deceased Jonathon William Lake and heir to the great Lake fortune.

This was going to be fun.

 _You can take the man out of espionage, but you can never take the spy out of the man._

 _Once s spy, always a spy._

 _There's no going back._

 **0~o~0**

 **Thanks for those who read this far. I hope you liked it.**

 **If there are any mistakes please tell me. This was written in one day and I am not very good at spelling.**

 **Review?**


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